


Acquired Tastes

by PredictableDisaster



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Coffee Shops, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PredictableDisaster/pseuds/PredictableDisaster
Summary: You definitely like coffee. Of course you do. Karkat is absolutely wrong when he says you're a tea person.You love coffee. That's why you always go to the coffee shop a few blocks away from your office and order anything the cute blond barista suggests.Yep. It's definitely because of the coffee.
Relationships: Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Acquired Tastes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic here. I'm definitely not a writer so don't expect anything amazing.

There's a coffee shop several blocks away from where you work. It's a quaint little thing. The interior has a very rustic aura to it, there's always classical music playing from the speakers, a small area dedicated to musical performances, a baby grand piano sitting beautifully in a corner, and a section with shelves filled to the brim with books of all kinds. All in all, it was definitely a breath of fresh air stumbling into it after a hard day at work.

You locate a nice spot not too far from the shelves and deposit your bag there, glancing at it every so often to make sure no one steals from it. Not that that's much of a worry seeing as no one is anywhere near your spot.

You stand by the side of the counter perusing the menu, looking for something you might like. You might have taken too long because a voice -so smooth and soft, like hot chocolate on a cold day- calls to you.

"Might I make a suggestion?"

You startle at that. The woman behind the counter smiles, a pleasant and sweet smile contrasting with the ominous and dark color of her lips. She waves at the menu. "I've tasted all of them and even helped come up with more than half of it. I know these drinks as intimately as a lover, I'm sure I can give you a drink that you would treasure like a childhood memory."

"Oh, is that so?" Your voice coloring with slight doubt. 

Her eyes, so deeply blue you could have mistaken them for purple at first glance, shines with a childish delight and interest. Her smile morphs into something more mischievous, not something an employee would give a customer. "I hope you don't mind me taking this as a challenge, miss."

Your heart decides to stutter at how she's looking at you. Wow she's gorgeous. You look away and focus intensely at the menu. You take a moment to make sure you won't stumble on your words and say "I had hoped you would."

She smiles wider and leans away from the counter. She recites the name of one of the drinks, along with the cost. You pay, wait by the side and watch her.

Her hands are deft and move with smooth practiced motions. No movement or turn was a waste, she glided through the ingredients and cutlery like a dancer.

Not long after, she pushes a cup in your direction; her smile sure yet challenging. "This is a simple one, definitely a house favourite. One of the first John and I had made, making sure it was reminiscent of lazy mornings with no obligations."

You pick it up gently and take in the aroma. "I had assumed you'd give me your best, something that would blow me away."

She smirks at you.

How can one person convery so much with just the slight quirk of their lip.

"I am a woman of caution. I test the waters and see how far my actions and decisions take me before offering something monumental. Besides," she pauses and looks you up and down quickly. "I would be bereft to lose the opportunity to converse with you. To find out what kind of coffee you would prefer, of course."

You feel your face warm and, to make sure you don't make a fool of yourself, you smile at her in thanks and excuse yourself to your seat.

You sneak as many glances to her as you can for the rest of your stay.

* * *

You come back to the shop almost everyday. The barista, Rose, gives you a week or two before suggesting a new drink. She would always have that glint of mischievousness and excitement in her eyes as she gives you your drink. And after several days of you drinking the current concoction, she would come to your table and ask your opinion of it.

Everytime, you give her a smile and answer coyly. Making sure to give praise but withhold yourself enough to make it look as if you're not content with what you have. Her eyes always shine with excitement when you allude to wanting a new drink, the challenge of finding your favourite energizing her.

After the third or fourth time she sat with you, you had asked if this was okay. Wouldn't she be reprimanded by her employer? She laughs at this, a twinkling light sound you burn into your memory as it heats your cheeks. "John wouldn't mind, as long as I don't leave him during rush hours." She nods at the bespectacled man behind the counter, chatting happily with another bespectacled woman as she cleans some cutlery. "He is quite adamant on letting us rest when we can. He is a nice man and an even nicer employer and I don't see myself changing employment anytime soon."

Rose speaks of him so fondly you wonder how long they've known each other. And how close they are.

You shake that thought away. A woman this gorgeous is definitely not someone you can have. You're content with what you have, and you'll likely not want more.

You hope so, at least.

* * *

A month or so into your patronage, she starts dropping by your table more often. She asks you more about yourself and she, in turn, shares more of herself.

"A seamstress?" She tilts her head, an incredibly adorable action she does unconsciously everytime she finds something interesting. "I would love to see your works."

You laugh nervously, "I'm still not the best, I'm only a year fresh from college and I have much to learn under my current employer."

"Nonetheless, I would hope to one day be able to dress myself by something from your hands."

Her smile was so dangerously flirtatious you had to focus on drinking to at least hide your burning cheeks and prevent yourself from saying anything too embarrassing.

You learn that she is studying to get her PHD in psychology, but her biggest goal is finishing a book she had been writing since she was a teen. Her genre of choice is fantasy and she shows you, however shyly, some shorter works of hers that she's had published.

It's not exactly your usual preferences, but you love it all the same. Her worlds are so full and sprawling, her characters alive and breathing. Her stories never ending with just the last page, leaving you happy but craving for more.

Despite her writing, you learn her guilty pleasure over trashy romance novels along with her preference for bodice rippers. You laugh at this, which she mistakes as you making fun of her. You rush to clarify that you yourself love the same kind of books and admit to your unironic fascination with Twilight. You bond over your terrible tastes and you go home that day with several recommendations.

* * *

It is around your sixth recommended drink that she asks you if you could stay a little longer than usual.

Your heart flutters at this. A voice in your head, sounding suspiciously like Karkat, screams that this is such a cliché set-up for a confession and that if she doesn't do it you might as well do it.

You can comfortably admit your infatuation now- "You're not 'infatuated' you shit eating baby, you're practically in love, Kanaya, jesus fucking christ." Karkat screams in the corner of your head. However that doesn't mean you would go confessing anytime soon. You sincerely doubt that she would go for someone like you. She has so much interesting points about her and you're just a simple woman who doesn't even like coffee.

That aside, you do love being around her and staying behind for a little longer is not a problem.

You wait, your drink finished and a book she had recommended in your hand. She passes by frequently, always with an air of nervousness hanging around her.

You wonder why and debate on either prying or comforting her blindly. Before you settle on a decision, you learn the why when she takes a spot by the area for performances. She sits on a stool in the center and tucks her violin under her chin.

She plays so beautifully. She moves with such grace and concentration that you are mesmerized by her movements. Her eyes are closed as her fingers dance on the neck of her instrument. She plays with so much emotion you are swept off your feet and are captivated. The sounds of the cafe melt away and all you can hear and see is Rose and her magnificence.

She smoothly moves into a new song, no pausing or fumbling, just a transition so subtle you hardly realize she started anew. 

You see her open her eyes. She sweeps her gaze around the cafe and settles on you. Your breath catches on your throat and you could have sworn she was trying to tell you something. A secret in between the notes that she was desperately trying to convey.

She closes her eyes once again and you try to wrangle your heart into a more normal rhythm.

She finishes up after three more songs, a light applause echoing through the cafe as she bows and moves to behind the counter. John and another coworker, Jade, she told you before, envelop her in their arms. You watch as she pats the both of them. The two release her and talk in hushed voices, hands moving along with each word.

You wish you could hug her. Wrap your arms around her smaller frame and tell her that you were absolutely captivated by her performance. You wish you could shower her with praises and, in a deeper part of your mind, kisses.

"Kanaya?"

You startle at her voice. You didn't notice her sitting opposite you. You push down your desire to kiss her and how awfully beautiful your name sounds on her tongue.

She smiles at you shyly, fidgeting with a cup of something in front of her. "I hope I made your stay worthwhile."

"You were absolutely beautiful, Rose." You realize what you said and immediately feel your face burn. "That is, to say, that your performance was definitely amazing. I wasn't aware you played the violin. Though, I would be lying if I said I was surprised. I noticed how deft you were with your fingers and assumed you had an instrument you played. Not that I took a particular fascination with your fingers, as graceful and well maintained as they are. I suppose I'm saying that I was not surprised that you play the violin and you play so well, seeing as who you are as a person. You're so graceful and composed, of course that would translate to music. You were amazing and captivating and I would love to hear you play again."

You cringe at yourself immediately stare at the table in embarrassment. 

A moment passes and you see a cup inch into your vision, a piece of paper stuck underneath it. The earthy aroma of tea confuses you into looking up and sending her a quizzical rise of your eyebrow.

"Perhaps," she starts, her voice tentative but hopeful, her cheeks coloring, "we can arrange a time for a private concert for you. If you wouldn't mind."

You stare at her dumbly. Belatedly remembering to nod. "I," you swallow in a vague attempt to not make a fool of yourself, "would definitely love that."

The smile she gives you is relieved and absolutely giddy. She nods to the cup of tea in front of you before standing up. "I'm sorry for not realizing sooner, however I would be lying if I didn't continue to assume incorrectly in order to speak with you." She smiles at you once more and leaves for the counter, the evening crowd getting mildly thicker.

Your gaze trails after her for a second before inspecting the piece of paper. You unfold it and feel yourself smile like an idiot.

Her number is on it, along with a short message written in looping purple ink.

_If you wouldn't mind, I would love to see and try the teas you like. As a form of apology of me forcing my tastes upon you._

You take a sip of your drink and sigh happily. As nice as the familiarity is, you wouldn't mind trying new things if this is how they turn out.


End file.
